


And We're Heroes Again

by jsuislfrost



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Achilles wants to get to the Isles of the Blessed and Patroclus is dragged into it too, Fluff, Kinda, M/M, Modern Era, One-Shot, Reincarnation AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 02:55:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11819766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jsuislfrost/pseuds/jsuislfrost
Summary: The Fates had set him quite a challenge this time. The third trial, the third time around, was always difficult and slightly twisted, but he maintained that this was going too far.How was he supposed to find Achilles in this wide, new world?The Isles of the Blessed are Achilles' new goal. There's a specific condition to his and Patroclus' final reincarnation.





	And We're Heroes Again

Patroclus had never had cold coffee before. This did not make him punctual or organised, it just spoke of his priorities. When he bought a coffee – whole milk, creamer, maybe a couple of sprinkles – he had his mind set on drinking it.

This time, it sat, catching dust and cooling to below room temperature while he stared out the window.

The Fates had set him quite a challenge this time. The third trial, the third time around, was always difficult and slightly twisted, but he maintained that this was going too far.

How was he supposed to find Achilles in this wide, new world?

This wide, new world had brought about amazing things, he could credit it that much. He’d had Turkish coffee and Vietnamese coffee and Italian coffee, and was politely shocked at how one plant could become so many things, taste so variant, just because different people made it.

This coffee was commercial, from a place called Starbucks, and it tasted like someone had physically ground powdered sugar into the milk.

It had been at least two millennia since Troy. Two millennia of everyone he knew being dead, two millennia of essentially being dead himself. Elysium had provided every comfort, from lodging to hobbies to new heroes arriving to light it up with their tales. But Achilles, ever ambitious Achilles, had his sights set on the Isles of the Blessed.

Three times around? he’d asked. And achieve Elysium in each one? I can do that.

He’d reached out and touched Patroclus’ hand with his fingers, then touched Patroclus’ heart with his smile. _We can do that._

Patroclus was twenty-five now, in this life. The Fates had left his memories intact for the final trip, out of kindness or an extra layer of cruelty he didn’t know. They were hard women to read.

He’d been searching the globe for Achilles. It was surprisingly easy, his family this time around were a travel agent and a free spirit with plenty of inheritance. He had the means, he’d even started a little blog to keep up with his travels, earn a little extra money on his own while, officially, working for his travel agent mother.

And also as a beacon for Achilles.

Patroclus knew, from several trips into Google using his own name, that his website was on page two. After all the Trojan War stuff. Apparently, he and Achilles had been reduced to myth – legend, really. It was harrowing and exciting at the same time.

The coffee was beyond cold now. A British winter coupled with bad heating meant a café interior that was no warmer than the outside weather. As someone who had technically lived through the sweltering mire of ten Trojan summers, thick with battle, dust and death, Patroclus did not let weather deter him from much.

He abandoned his coffee completely and took out his laptop. Sleek and cool, he skimmed it with his fingers before opening it up. Part of him still marvelled at technology, how it had progressed. Another part had grown up with it for twenty-five years, and didn’t blink.

He opened up his blog, which had a decent following. He was more media savvy than he expected to be this century. Last time had been a disaster.

Patroclus dropped a pin on his current location, a fresh point in a steady snake curling north. A notification popped up in the announcements section, and Patroclus began typing out an update, uploading a rather nice photo of himself with the lions in Trafalgar Square from the other day. He made sure to note his frozen coffee – people seemed to find it funny.

Once again, inquiries flew in. Whether he’d be visiting such-and-such, if he wouldn’t mind meeting up, there was a (far better) coffee place not far from the British Museum and I’d be happy to buy in exchange for your thoughts on my next family holiday.

Whether his long-promised book would be out soon.

Whether he’d found what he always seemed to be looking for.

Patroclus closed the laptop, watching his desktop photo wink out. It was the same as his phone background – an artist’s impression of brave Achilles taking on the field of Trojans. He was gross and sentimental, but a warmth lit in his belly to see it. He hadn’t seen Achilles in a long while. He missed him.

“There must be something on your mind if you let a good coffee go cold, Patroclus.”

The words could have come from Patroclus’ own mouth, they echoed so precisely his thoughts. Perhaps they did.

“Yeah,” he murmured to himself. “Just what’s always on my mind, I guess.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m looking for someone.”

“Have you found them?”

“I will.”

“But have you?”

The seat across from Patroclus scraped the concrete as it was drawn away and spun around. Someone sat down opposite him, thighs parted astride the café chair and a golden grin on their face.

Patroclus blinked. “Yes,” he answered himself, or Achilles, or both of them.

It felt like centuries since he’d seen those bright green eyes sparkle for him.

“I found you,” he whispered.

“I think I found you,” Achilles replied.

Something that was a half inside him clicked into a whole. Patroclus wasted no more on words before shooting out of his chair and grabbing Achilles so tight nothing short of Zeus himself could pull him off.

“You’re difficult to pin down this time,” Achilles told his hair, his fingers grazing by Patroclus’ ear. “I’ve been trying to predict where you’d end up next.”

Patroclus held him tighter.

“You follow my blog?” he whispered. Achilles nodded.

“Anything for a glimpse of you,” he said. Then he grinned. “That picture with the starfish in Vanuatu is my personal favourite, you know.” He held up his phone and clicked it on, showing his lock screen. It was a photo of Patroclus from a year ago, lying in the shallows with starfish stuck to every available space of brown skin.

Patroclus wrinkled his nose, flushing. “I can’t believe I have a majestic painting of your smug ass as my background, and yours is my moment of weakness.”

“You have a picture of my ass?”

Patroclus flicked Achilles’ jaw.

“I take it back, I didn’t miss you.”

“You never said you did.”

A small smile graced Patroclus’ lips. The warmth from Achilles’ painting lit in his stomach, burning brighter. The real thing stood before him.

“I missed you.”

“Me, too.”

The next picture uploaded to Patroclus’ blog was a one in a million. It had the sun beaming down on two men, one shining gold and laughing, the other calm and wrapped in strong arms. Reviewers commented they’d never seen Patroclus so relaxed – including the time right after his first Thai massage.

 _Did you find what you’ve been looking for?_ one anonymous ask said. Patroclus didn’t know how he knew who it was from, but he did. He pictured three wrinkled old goddesses as he typed out a reply.

_Yes._

“Now, time to be heroes again.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I just finished Song of Achilles and I'm hurting, so have this. Hopefully more fic in the future ye?


End file.
